


Here in Secret Harmonies

by miss_begonia



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 18:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_begonia/pseuds/miss_begonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter!AU, in which there are wizards, witchcraft, and wizardry. And a lot of singing.</p><p>“You have a gift, Adam,” Professor Abdul says. “You have a gift you must share with the world, and you will be beautiful when you share it, but you must beware of those who seek to take you down.”</p><p>Adam is shaking, and his hands are slick with sweat. </p><p>“Beware, Adam,” Professor Abdul says, and her voice sounds far away. “The darkness – it will feel like a kiss—”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here in Secret Harmonies

_I’m only attracted to other magical people._  
~Adam Lambert

*

“Take my hand.”

Adam can’t see through the smoke. His eyes blur and sting, his throat feels raw, and every muscle in his body aches. His pants are ripped along the left leg inseam, he’s got dirt on his cheek, and his hands feel charged, like he just stuck a finger in an electric socket.

 _I’m dreaming_ , Adam thinks. _Wake up. Wake up right now._

“Dude, take my hand. C’mon, we’ve got to go!”

A strong hand grasps his arm and pulls him to his feet. Adam stumbles, the toe of his boot jamming hard into linoleum, and all of sudden he’s just – not _there_ anymore.

It’s the strangest sensation – he knows he was just in Digital Glitter, and it was a Friday night, and it smelled like spilled liquor and cheap cologne, and now he’s in—

Adam turns around slowly. There are clothes on racks, displays of heeled boots and studded belts and fake fur and piles and piles of jeans. He’s inside of American Rag on La Brea. Adam knows - he’s spent a lot of time in this store.

“You gave me a hard time, dawg,” a low voice comes from behind him, and Adam jumps. 

There’s a large black man wearing a bow tie and suspenders standing there, looking anxious. He reaches out and brushes off Adam’s jacket, as if that’s the most important thing to fix right now. 

“I’m sorry to just transport you like that, but it was not safe in there.”

“Yeah, I got that when the place exploded,” Adam says. 

“I’m Randy, by the way,” Randy says.

“Nice to meet you, Randy,” Adam says. “Now can you kindly tell me why you transported me here?”

“We’re here to get you your supplies. Seacrest asked me to get you set up.”

Randy presses his hand against the wall and it melts. The room shifts, and Adam feels nauseous.

They’re outdoors now, in a narrow, run-down alley bordered by shops. It’s dark. The storefronts are old-fashioned and quaint, bearing signs that read _Ye Olde Magick Shoppe_ and _Tunes & Tricks_ and advertise strange things – gillyweed and belladonna, wands and robes, books called _Idol Through the Ages_ and _No Boundaries: A History_. 

It’s like any strip mall you could find in L.A., but tweaked. Everything is familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

“This is the weirdest dream I’ve ever had,” Adam says. 

“Ain’t a dream, baby,” Randy says, guiding Adam down the hallway with one hand on his back. “Welcome to the world of 19E.”

It’s like Randy’s speaking Greek. Adam stops so suddenly that Randy nearly trips over him, and turns around to face him, hands on his hips.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Adam asks. “Emphasis on the expletive.”

“Hey, no need to get testy,” Randy says. “I just saved your ass in there!”

“Yeah, and you were a little late, weren’t you?” Adam shouts. “Where are you taking me? Tell me right now or I stay in this spot forever.”

“You’re in 19E,” Randy explains. “It’s a magical ‘mall,’ I guess the Muggles call it. We’re here to get you school supplies because I’m taking you to No Boundaries.”

“No what?” Adam asks. “Why are you taking me anywhere? Why can’t I go home?”

“Did you miss the part where the giant scary man blew up your uncle’s club?” Randy says. “You can’t go back there.”

“So I’m supposed to go some kind of weird school? Why? I don’t—“

“It’s a school for wizards,” Randy says slowly. “You’re a wizard, Adam.”

“That’s ridicu—“ Adam starts to say, but Randy grabs Adam’s hand and holds it. His skin prickles all over, and he tries to pull away.

“Have you ever done anything by accident?” Randy prods. “Anything…unusual?”

Adam squeezes his eyes shut. _I’m going to wake up_ , he thinks. _Any minute now, this will all be over._

But all he can see in his mind is Sam Greggs after he made fun of Adam’s hair in sixth grade, doubled over on the floor and shaking. Sam had shimmered like a mirage, and Adam had felt like he was on fire. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adam hisses.

“You’re lying,” Randy says, squeezing Adam’s hand. “You don’t need to lie anymore, Adam.”

Adam twitches, pulling his hand away. A small child races past him, chasing a small, fluttering object that looks suspiciously like a fairy. A man hovers cross-legged in the air, reading a newspaper. Fireworks explode overhead, and the sparks turn into tiny flowers.

He’s so distracted by the million impossibilities going on around him that he doesn’t even notice there’s something circling his leg until Randy pokes him in the shoulder. He looks down and stares, enraptured, as a miniature white horse with a gleaming silver horn hops and butts at his knee.

“Is that a _unicorn_?” Adam whispers.

“Messenger unicorn,” Randy says. “You need one of those, actually. Well – not that one, specifically, but--“

Adam kneels down and lets the unicorn climb into his hand. It’s so beautiful and smooth, and it glitters and glimmers in the lamp light, and Adam knows, in that moment, that he’s not dreaming. 

“I don’t know, dawg, that doesn’t really work for you for me,” Randy says. 

Adam lifts the unicorn up, feeling her tiny hooves trip along his palm. 

“I will call her Sparkle Motion,” he says.

And that is when he begins to cry.

“Aw, dude, don’t—“ Randy says.

“I can’t believe this,” Adam says, but what he really means is _I can’t do this. I can’t do this without you_. His voice is hoarse, and he’s shaking, and he hurts everywhere he can still feel anything.

“You have to believe,” Randy says. 

He opens his hand, and a curl of light becomes a checkered handkerchief that matches his tie. He hands it to Adam to dry his tears.

“This is your world now.”

*

Adam grew up in a city filled with people who build sets and make costumes and synthesize natural disasters and re-enact wars in the name of entertainment, a city that creates fantasies out of paper and glass and binary code. No Boundaries School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is like nothing Adam has ever seen. It’s a castle, yes, with turrets and a gatehouse and palisades and a moat – but it’s surrounded by a hazy halo of light that make it resemble the sight of a recent alien abduction. A huge rainbow flag flaps from the highest turret. A crest above the huge iron door reads: _We honor our founding fathers: Freddie Mercury Don Henley Stevie Wonder Kanye West._ A plaque near the door reads:

  


_You can go higher, you can go deeper  
There are no boundaries above and beneath you  
Break every rule ‘cause there’s nothing between you  
and your dreams_  


“That’s terrible,” Adam says. “Is that a song?”

“Shhh,” Randy says. “There are classes going on.”

Adam pauses in front of a huge glass trophy case, filled with trophies shaped to look like old-fashioned microphones. Engraved across the top in gold lettering is the following: 

__

This is…American Idol.

“What’s American Idol?” Adam asks.

“Come on,” Randy says, ignoring him. “We have to get you sorted.”

“Sorted?” Adam follows Randy down a dimly hit hallway and into a large office. He feels like a parrot. A deeply confused parrot.

“Adam!”

A short man wearing a well-tailored pin-striped suit appears from nowhere and holds out his hand. “I am so glad to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Adam says. 

Normally Adam has pretty good manners, but people have been transporting him without his consent, and no one is answering his questions, and he thinks this means the normal rules of propriety do not apply.

“I’m Professor Seacrest, Headmaster,” the man says, and retracts his hand when Adam does not shake it.

“Awesome,” Adam says. “Clearly my reputation has preceded me.”

“I know you’ve hit a few snags on your journey,” Seacrest says. “If we can just get you sorted, we’ll get you settled, and you can rest and—“

“What’s being sorted?” Adam asks. “Seriously, I am not a piece of laundry. I don’t understand.”

Randy approaches him, holding a black fedora that looks like it has seen better days.

“This is the Sorting Hat,” Seacrest explains. “It will determine what House you’re going to live in.”

“Can’t I just choose what house I live in?” Adam asks. “Which one has, like, black as its house color? Or glitter?”

Randy lifts the hat above Adam’s head, and before it even touches his hair a gravelly voice shouts, “Mercury! Total Mercury! 100 percent!”

“Did that hat just talk?” Adam asks.

“Apparently you are a Mercury,” Seacrest says, and smiles a bright white smile. “Randy can take you to your room now.”

“Great,” Adam says. “Is there room service, by any chance?”

Seacrest places one hand on Adam’s shoulder, and electricity ripples down his spine. Adam steps back, feeling dizzy.

“Welcome,” Seacrest says, “to No Boundaries.”

*

Adam Lambert has spent a lot of his life in closets.

He never really intends to; it’s just where he ends up going whenever he’s sad or afraid or confused. 

Also, there are clothes in closets. Adam likes clothes.

This closet, however, has no clothes in it, because Adam has not unpacked. He has been at No Boundaries for approximately two hours, and he has spent most of this time holed up in his bedroom, curled into a ball with his eyes closed, trying to pull a Dorothy and wish himself somewhere else. He misses West Hollywood, and he misses his uncle, and he doesn’t know anybody, and he doesn’t particularly want to know anybody, and he would really be okay with staying in this closet forever with Sparkle Motion. At least Sparkle Motion understands him, even if she is an undersized messenger unicorn with a terrible sense of direction (she got lost finding his room when he accidentally left her in Seacrest’s office) who likes to chew on the cuffs of his pants. 

Which she is doing now, in fact.

“Stop that, Sparkle Motion,” Adam tells her, and she looks at him reproachfully, fabric still caught in her tiny teeth. She tugs and pulls like she’s trying to get him to leave the closet, but that’s really not happening, because it’s quiet in here, and Adam has been crying, and he’s sure his eyeliner is a mess, and just – no. No, he is going to stay put, right here, forever.

He tugs a hand through his black hair, feeling the leftover gel slick between his fingers. He sort of wants to fix it, but doesn’t have the energy. He wipes his hand off on his jeans and fiddles with his necklace – a simple silver chain with a pendant shaped like a lightning bolt. He’s had it since he was a little kid, when his uncle draped it around his neck and whispered, _Keep this and it will protect you forever._

“Hey,” he hears a voice from outside the closet door, and then the door cracks open. “I thought I heard somebody in there.”

Standing in the door of the closet, backlit by the lamps in the room, is a short brown-haired boy wearing a red and white plaid shirt and ripped jeans. He smiles down at Adam, and wow, okay, apparently they make them magical _and_ cute at No Boundaries.

Adam wishes he’d fixed his hair. He can’t imagine what this guy must think of him – with his earrings and eyeliner and black-painted nails, his brown leather jacket pulled tight around his shoulders, his feet clad in clunky heeled boots.

“Hi,” the boy says. “I’m Kris Allen. Are you Adam?”

 _Kris Allen_. Right! His _roommate._

“Yes,” Adam says. “I’m Adam.”

“What are you doing in the closet?” Kris asks. “You know what? Never mind. It looks comfortable in there. Hold on. I’m coming in.”

And just like that, Kris crouches down on the floor and pulls the door closed so they’re immersed in darkness again. Kris is very close to Adam all of a sudden, and he smells like heaven—like soap and mint and other things that are fresh. 

“I’m glad we’re roommates,” Kris says. “When my roommate didn’t come back this year I was bummed, but then they told me there was probably going to be a new kid, and I was like, ‘Awesome!’ I heard the Sorting Hat said you were a Mercury right away. I didn’t even think I’d be in this house when I first got here – Henley House for sure, because I am so not interesting enough to be a Mercury. But hey, it’s their mistake, right?”

Adam wonders if the Sorting Hat can make mistakes. He’s not sure what makes someone a Mercury, but he definitely thinks Kris is interesting.

“Is that a unicorn?” Kris exclaims as Sparkle Motion stumbles up over his knee. “You have your own unicorn?”

“I got it at American Rag,” Adam says. “I don’t know, Randy said I’d need one.”

“I have a koala,” Kris says. “He’s so slow, though. He just loses focus all the time! But he’s a hand-me-down from my brother, and my dad said we can’t afford another.”

“Your parents are wizards?” Adam asks. 

“Yeah, all the Allens are wizards,” Kris says. “We’re a big magical family, I guess.”

Adam thinks that sounds nice. Nicer, certainly, than finding out only hours ago that he possesses magical abilities of his own, which just happened to coincide with the discovery that someone was trying to kill him. All of this sounds awesome in a glamorous Hollywood movie sort of way, but in fact, it turned out to be the very definition of Not Cool. Especially when—

Adam can feel himself tearing up again. He sighs and wipes away the wet with one gloved finger. 

“Are you okay?” Kris asks. “I probably should have asked that sooner. You are hiding in a closet.”

“I’m not hiding,” Adam says. “I’m just…I needed the space.”

He can feel Kris rustling around beside him. “Not a whole lot of space in here, man.”

Adam pulls his knees up to his chin and tries to breathe. Sometimes small spaces feel the safest. 

He can see his uncle, standing in front of his closet, examining its contents. He can see him batting Adam’s hands away, saying, _Don’t touch that, honey. Not the leather._

 _But I like the leather_ , Adam had said, running his fingers along the lapel of the jacket.

 _And when you’re older, you can have your own jacket like this one, okay?_ Marvin said. _But you’re sixteen, and the spikes are not appropriate._

 _I sing at a drag club every week_ , Adam said. _Is that appropriate?_

 _Of course it is, because you live here,_ Marvin said. _Also, everyone loves you, and you’re completely safe._

Adam let his eyes rake over the dyed blue leather with spikes on the shoulders.

 _I don’t know_ , he said. _Maybe I don’t want to be safe anymore._

“You’re really quiet over there,” Kris says. “Are you always this quiet?”

“I’m sorry,” Adam says. “I’m freaking out right now.”

“Hey, everybody freaks out,” Kris says. “It’s a new place, and there’s all these people, and—”

“I don’t want to be here,” Adam says. 

Kris inhales sharply, and then he feels Kris’ arm encircle his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He’s so warm and solid, and Adam is suddenly much more okay with being here at No Boundaries. If being here means being with Kris, it might not be so bad after all.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kris says.

There’s a clatter outside the door and then it swings open, bathing them both in soft light. Adam squints as his eyes adjust, and then he sees a small guy wearing tight pants, a glittery scarf and a hat tipped at a jaunty angle.

“I thought I heard you fools talking in here,” the boy says. “Getting the party started already, I see. Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Brad, can you please—” Kris starts to say, but Brad leans in and takes Adam’s arm, yanking until Adam stumbles out of the closet and into the light.

“No I will not leave you alone, Allen,” Brad says, and gives Adam a sunny smile. “Hi, I’m Brad,” he says. “But _you_ can call me Cheeks.”

*

They spend the rest of the evening unpacking Adam’s things, which consist of a trunk filled with clothes that Randy somehow managed to recover from Digital Glitter (Adam guesses it involved magical transport), and his purchases from 19E – books, robes, and a brand new wand.

“This wand is sexy,” Brad says, running his hand along the length of it. “I wish my wand was this sexy.”

“I don’t know anything about wands,” Adam says, hanging up a pair of gold lamé pants in the closet. “I just picked that one because I liked the silver trim.”

Brad smiles at Adam. “I like you.”

“Thanks?”

Kris bounces in, followed closely by a girl with long magenta hair streaked with purple. She seems a bit shy, but Kris shoves her at Adam with an enthusiastic, “Allison, this is my new roommate!”

“Hi,” Allison says, and holds out her hand for Adam to shake. He takes her hand in his gloved one and squeezes, and she blushes to the color of her hair.

“Allison is awesome,” Kris says. “Even if she’s just a baby.”

“Hey, I’m not that much younger than you, assface,” Allison says, and Kris looks horrified at her language.

“I have so much work already,” Brad complains from where he’s splayed out on the floor, perfectly situated to make everyone maneuver around him. “It’s only the third day of school! Why must they make us work?”

“You love it,” Kris says. “Especially since you’re good at everything.”

“I am good at everything, aren’t I?” Brad says, and Kris rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you’re just mad because Professor Cowell thinks you’re an idiot because you always freeze up whenever he asks you anything.”

“He scares me!” Kris complains. “He’s so sarcastic and…British.”

Adam lets the hum of conversation fade into the background as he continues to hang things up in his closet, his movements becoming automatic. He can’t help thinking his clothes look strange here against this dark wood, the room lit only by candles that burn and flicker at shoulder-height. Nothing about this place even resembles home, where everything was metal and modern and white. His uncle loved things that looked new. At No Boundaries everything seems old and traditional – everything but Adam, who knows nothing of the traditions and history this school values so much.

“Hey,” Adam hears, and he realizes Kris is standing beside him, hand hovering just above Adam’s arm.

“Hey,” Adam whispers, and Kris places his hand on Adam’s forearm for only a moment, just long enough for Adam to exhale.

*

“I didn’t know anything about magical traditions,” Brad explains the next morning, taking a bite of egg and chewing delicately. “My parents are Muggles, you see.”

“My parents were Muggles, I think,” Adam says. “But they died when I was little in a plane crash.”

Brad looks at Adam with wide eyes. “You talk a lot in the past tense,” he says. “You’re so _tragic_ , Jesus.”

“You’re so _rude_ ,” Kris says. 

Kris is adorable when he’s ruffled, and even cuter in natural light. Or what passes for light around here, anyway – what’s wrong with electricity? Adam wonders if anyone here owns a hair dryer. Speaking of tragic.

“I’m just telling it like it is, sweetheart,” Brad says. “Adam wins for most tragic this year, I think. Except maybe over Danny Gokey, but who cares, right? That guy is a total tool. I don’t think he even needs those glasses.”

Adam follows Brad’s gaze to where a slightly chubby, bespectacled boy is sitting, surrounded by other members of his house, picking at the table top. He looks sad and a little angry and lost. Adam’s chest tightens.

“What’s his story?” Adam asks.

Brad leans forward. “I heard he was engaged,” he says. “Like, to be married in the future. And she disappeared this summer.”

“His future wife disappeared?” Kris says. “That’s awful.”

“Obviously yes,” Brad says, and rolls his eyes. “But he talks about it all the time.”

Adam stirs his oatmeal and wonders what people might say about him if he talked about his uncle. He thinks maybe he should keep it to himself – just how tragic he really is.

“Kris is kind of tragic,” Brad says. “He lost his roommate.”

“I didn’t _lose_ him,” Kris says. “It’s not like I misplaced him or something. He just didn’t come back.”

Kris sounds sad, and Brad is just sensitive enough to back off. There’s a short, awkward silence.

“Potions!” Brad exclaims, and pushes his chair back from the table. “I’m excited. I kick so much ass at Potions. Are you excited?”

Kris looks dubious, and Adam pushes a strand of black hair out of his eyes.

“That sounds hard,” Adam says.

“Most good things are,” Brad says, and winks.

*

“I don’t care how adept you are at synthesizing beauty products, Bell,” Professor Cowell says with a snide lilt. “It is not an acceptable way to spend this class.”

“But I made mascara,” Brad says. “Do you know how hard it is to do that?”

“You made mascara?” Adam asks, and leans in closer to see what’s inside of Brad’s cauldron. “Can I try some?”

“Lambert!” Professor Cowell’s lips are twitching. “Am I going to have to separate you two?”

“He’s not doing anything wrong,” Kris puts in, and Professor Cowell whips around to level a ferocious glare at the small boy.

“I don’t even have anything to say to you, Allen,” he says. “Your level of failure is so high that there are not words for it in the English language. Do you have any idea what we are supposed to be making?”

Kris wrinkles his nose. “I thought you said—”

“Kris and I have been working together,” Adam says, and pushes his cauldron towards Professor Cowell. “It’s a sickness curing potion, sir. Just like you directed.”

“ _Kiss-up_ ,” Danny Gokey coughs into his hands from the next table over, and Adam wonders if Brad’s initial assessment was, in fact, correct.

Professor Cowell peers into his cauldron and stirs it quickly with the ladle. 

“It looks passable,” he sneers, finally. “If you learn to _focus_ , Lambert, you might have a chance at greatness.”

With a swish of his long cloak, Professor Cowell is off to subject another table of students to his particularly pointed brand of criticism.

“He’s a keeper,” Brad says, seemingly unconcerned about Professor Cowell’s attempt at discipline. “You’re so lucky you have me to help you.” He produces a mascara wand from his bag, dips it into his mixture and scoots forward so his knees are pressed against Adam’s. “Close your eyes.”

Adam does, and feels the tickle of the wand as Brad applies it to his lashes.

“Open,” Brad orders.

Kris is staring at Adam like he’s some otherworldly creature, and Brad is biting his lip.

“I like it,” Brad decides.

“You look very—” Kris starts to say, then clams up, folding his arms on his desk and studying his hands.

“Kris is being as articulate as usual, I see,” Brad says, grinning, then flutters his eyelashes. “Come by later and I’ll show you my eyeshadow collection.”

Kris glowers.

*

The next class is Divination with Professor Abdul. She’s a willowy woman wearing a sparkly silver top, a tutu and several scarves draped around her shoulders. Her face doesn’t move when she talks, which is a little disconcerting, but otherwise Adam thinks she’s lovely.

“Class, today we begin a journey of self-discovery,” she says. “It will open your eyes to the ways of the world, teach you to understand the colors of the soul, and – Mr. Giraud, what are you doing?”

Kris introduced Matt Giraud at lunch as “a piano man like me!”, which made Matt grin like a kid on Christmas. He seems like a nice enough guy, but he’s been skulking around the dark attic room in a way that has, frankly, been giving Adam the creeps. He stops in his tracks and mumbles something.

“What was that?” Professor Abdul cups her hand around her ear. “Please share with the class, dear.”

“I-said-I-was-going-to-sit-next-to-Kris,” Matt says, and flushes a dark pink.

Kris looks bewildered, but he shifts over so he’s practically sitting in Adam’s lap.

“You can sit here if you want,” Kris says, and pats the square of space he’s created. Adam is okay with this plan, as it means Kris is pressed against him from shoulder to thigh. Proximity to Kristopher Allen, Adam has decided, is always a good thing.

“Well, now that we’ve got that settled,” Professor Abdul says, and extends her hands. “Adam Lambert, come here.”

Adam freezes. He’s not sure he wants his brain picked by a psychic at the moment. Not that Adam hasn’t had a fair amount of contact with psychic-type-people – his uncle got Adam’s star chart done once for his birthday, which was the best present ever – but still. Things have happened in the last few days that Adam doesn’t want the whole world knowing about.

“Uh,” Adam says. “I don’t know, I—”

“Don’t be afraid, Mr. Lambert,” Professor Abdul says, and her eyes are soft. “There is nothing to fear about the future except being unprepared for it.”

Adam scoots forward on the floor and lets Professor Abdul takes his hands. Her palms are warm, her touch gentle. Adam feels his head begin to get a little foggy, and he lets his eyes slip closed.

“Oh, my,” Professor Abdul says, and Adam can hear a rustle of whispered voices. “I – I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“What do you see?” Adam says. His tongue feels thick in his mouth.

“You have so much light in you, sweetheart,” Professor Abdul says. “And so much – pain—”

Adam feels a shiver run through him, and his skin crawls.

“You have a gift, Adam,” Professor Abdul says. “You have a gift you must share with the world, and you will be beautiful when you share it, but you must beware of those who seek to take you down.”

Adam is shaking, and his hands are slick with sweat. 

“Beware, Adam,” Professor Abdul says, and her voice sounds far away. “The darkness – it will feel like a kiss—”

Everything goes black.

*

When Adam wakes, he’s lying in his bed in Mercury House. Kris is sitting next to him, one hand pressed to Adam’s forehead, his face tight with concern. When Adam’s eyes flutter open, Kris yanks his hand away as if he’s been burned.

“H-hey,” Kris stutters, and goes very pink in the cheeks.

“Hey,” Adam says. “Did I pass out?”

“Kind of,” Kris says. 

Adam sighs. “Lame. So lame.”

“Professor Abdul says she’s never seen anybody have that reaction!” Kris exclaims. “She said it was like there was some kind of – wall up in your brain, or something.”

 _Awesome_ , Adam thinks. _Guess it was too much to expect to be anything but a freak, even in the land of the freaks._

“We should go to dinner,” Kris says.

Adam props himself up on his elbows. His head swims. “You were going to skip dinner for me?”

“Well, of course,” Kris says. He plays with a bracelet on his wrist. “You’re my – my roommate.”

Adam watches the way Kris’ eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. Kris bites his lip, and Adam has to fist his hand in the sheets to resist closing the distance between them and kissing him.

“Thank you,” Adam says, and reaches out and takes Kris’ hand.

*

Dinner sucks. Everyone’s staring at him like he’s got some sort of communicable disease, and Adam’s still nauseous and not entirely steady on his feet. To make matters worse, Danny Gokey chooses this moment to officially introduce himself – by knocking into Adam and almost sending him sprawling.

“What did you do that for?” Adam shouts when he regains his balance.

Danny crosses his arms.

“You aren’t going to faint again, are you, Lambert?” he sneers.

“I didn’t faint,” Adam grits out.

“Oh, you just wilted like the delicate flower that you are?” Danny says. “Is that how you do it where you come from? West Hollywood? Fagland?”

Adam can hardly hear Danny’s words over the pounding of blood in his ears.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Adam hisses.

“Are you sure?” Danny says. “I heard your uncle bit it this week. Couldn’t handle the magic, right? Then again, that is what happens to guys like that – guys who are soft.”

Adam lifts one hand without thinking, pointing a single black-polished nail at Danny.

“Don’t. You. Talk. About. My. Uncle,” Adam says, and suddenly the room is alive with blue, glittery light.

He hears Danny shriek before he falls, crumpling into a tangled mass of limbs and writhing on the floor. The whole dining room goes into an uproar as kids jump over tables and push aside dishes to see what’s going on.

Adam is secretly glad to see Danny spluttering – he didn’t actually want to kill the guy, no matter how much of an asshole he is. It seems awfully early in the term for that. Danny stumbles to his feet, ranting incoherently, and that’s when Adam sees the glitter fall from the folds of Danny’s robes.

Danny shakes the arm of his robe, and a shimmering stream cascades to the floor. He looks horrified.

“What did you do to me, you bastard?” Danny yelps. 

“I just wanted to make your outside match your personality, Danny,” Adam says sweetly, and smiles.

*

“That was awesome!” Kris says. “What did you do to him?”

Adam leans against the wall in the hallway and attempts to catch his breath.

“I don’t know,” Adam says. His fingers are still tingling.

“He’s such a jerk,” Kris says. “How could he say those things to you?”

“Well, they’re not untrue,” Adam says. 

He can feel exhaustion settling over his shoulders like a heavy woolen blanket. He desperately wants to lie down and wrap himself up in it and go to sleep forever. 

Kris looks at him with wide, dark eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I do come from Fagland,” Adam says. “It's where I come from, I’m a resident, it’s where I get my mail. My uncle’s one too. Well, he was one. But now he’s dead.”

Kris’ mouth drops open. “Adam—”

“You probably don’t want to be friends with me,” Adam says. “People who get too close to me die.”

“That’s crazy,” Kris retorts. “How do you know—”

“Mr. Lambert!”

Headmaster Seacrest, wearing yet another sharp navy suit, his hair spiked and highlighted, strides down the hall and takes Adam’s arm. “I need to speak with you.”

Adam lets Seacrest tug him along, shrugging at Kris as he gets dragged away. Kris is looking at him like he’s just crushed all his hopes and dreams, even ones he didn’t know he had yet, and Adam doesn’t feel like explaining himself. How can he explain something he doesn’t understand?

Seacrest guides Adam into an office and closes the door behind him with a bang. Adam’s noticed the professors at this school have a flair for the dramatic. And Adam was raised in a drag club.

“Quite an eventful first day you’ve had, Adam,” Seacrest says. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything quite like it.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Adam mutters.

“You can’t just enchant people because you feel like it,” Seacrest says. “There are rules.”

Adam deflates. He knew it was unlikely that he’d get away with his little display in the dining hall, but he’d hoped he wouldn’t merit a visit from the big guns just yet. Adam doesn’t like authority much, and he’s had an awful lot of experience with it. It’s not Adam’s fault that he keeps accidentally enchanting people. At least now he knows that’s what he was doing. Before, he thought he was defective in some way that resulted in people finding themselves unable to stop dancing, or suddenly dressed in glitter tights. It was like having the worst superpower ever.

Seacrest is looking at Adam carefully, like he’s trying to figure something out. “I know you came to us under rather unusual circumstances.”

Adam looks down at his feet. “I…guess so.”

“It’s certainly unusual for us to accept students who are already sixteen,” Seacrest says. “The learning curve for you will be tough. Most of our students have been here for nearly five years.”

“I pick up things quickly,” Adam says.

“I have no doubt you’ll do just fine,” Seacrest says. “I just wish we’d been able to find you sooner.”

 _Find me?_ Adam wonders. He wasn’t aware anyone was looking.

“I’m sure your uncle had his reasons for hiding you from us,” Seacrest says. “Considering what happened to your parents—”

“What happened to my—” Adam starts to say, and he can see Seacrest retreating, his face breaking into a wide, fake smile.

“When tragedies happen it makes us all cautious,” Seacrest says. “But it doesn’t matter now. You’re safe here with us.”

 _Safe from what?_ Adam wants to ask, but he doesn’t know if he trusts Headmaster Seacrest yet with his Versace and his bronze tan and his creepy plastic smile.

“Can I go now, sir?” Adam asks. “I’m sorry to cause trouble. I won’t do it again.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Seacrest says. “It’s what boys do. But just remember – there are people who will pick on you for being different. It’s because they’re afraid of you. They’ll call you weak. Don’t listen to them. Your difference makes you strong.”

When Adam came home from school, bruised and beaten from fights on the playground, Uncle Marvin would take Adam’s hand and say, _You are beautiful. Fuck them, they don’t know you. I know you, and I know you’re beautiful._

“Being different doesn’t mean you’re soft, Adam,” Seacrest says. “It means you’re special.”

*

Adam tosses and turns, shifting against the sheets. He thinks of home, his room above the club, floor vibrating with the pulse of music late into the night, David Bowie posters taped haphazardly to the wall and glittering even in the darkness. Uncle Marvin would come to check on him, smelling of cigarettes and booze and disinfectant, eau du club manager. He’d say, _You okay, rock star?_ and Adam would pretend to be asleep, burrowing into his soft pillows.

Adam knows his upbringing wasn’t exactly typical, but he never felt like he missed out on anything. He went to school and took voice lessons and learned to ride a bike like other kids did. And he also knows how to glue on false eyelashes and give a manicure and make a fine martini. The best of all worlds.

He wants to sleep, but every time he closes his eyes he sees the scary man in the high boots and crazy make-up, eyes wild as he flicked out his long tongue. 

_You thought I’d never find you_ , he’d said. _You were wrong._

And then he raised one hand and let out a scream so loud and painful Adam fell to the floor, gasping and covering his ears. When he finally stopped screeching, Adam crawled forward on his hands and knees toward his uncle, grasped his collar and shook him, shook him but he didn’t wake up, he wouldn’t wake up—

“Adam?”

Adam twitches in bed, heart stumbling to an uneven rhythm. “Yeah?”

“I just—if you ever want to talk, man, I’m here. Okay?”

Kris sounds tentative and a little scared, like he wants to say more but doesn’t know how.

“Okay,” Adam says, and hugs his pillow and repeats _okay, okay, okay_ until he drifts into unconsciousness.

*

He’s awakened at some ungodly hour – the sun isn’t even up, he can see through the thin curtains – by Kris bouncing on his bed, looking far too cheerful to live.

“C’mon, get up!” Kris says. “Idol tryouts today. Aren’t you going to try out?”

Adam rubs at his eyes and peers at Kris. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Hey, you probably shouldn’t say stuff like that,” Kris says, forehead crinkling with worry. “They’re pretty strict about language around here.”

“Nobody should have to be up this early,” Adam mumbles. “Especially because we don’t have class, dear Jesus.”

“But the Idol tryouts are in an hour,” Kris says. “You have to come. At least to watch. They’re hilarious!”

“What are these Idol tryouts you speak of?” Adam asks.

“It’s for Magical Show Choir,” Kris says. “It’s pretty much the most important extra-curricular there is.”

Adam blinks. “ _Show choir?_ ”

“Yeah,” Kris says. “This year I’m going to make it, too! I’ve been practicing.”

“The most important activity at this school is show choir,” Adam repeats. “Not, like, basketball?”

Kris looks at him blankly. “That’s more of a Muggle thing, I think. We like to sing.”

“Oh good, you’ve roused him!” Brad says, bursting into the room. “Out of bed, Lambert! I have to dress you.”

“I’m not sure this is—” Adam starts to say, but Brad is already manhandling him towards the closet and pushing aside hangers in a furious search for something.

“Don’t tell me you don’t sing,” Brad says. “I have special extra-sensory powers when Mercury is in retrograde, and I can tell you’re a performer. Do you own any leather?”

“Do I own any leather,” Adam scoffs. “What kind of question is that?”

“Exactly,” Brad says, and flings a black leather jacket at Adam. “Put that on. And this,” he hands him a belt with a silver buckle with entwined dragons. “It’s a Mercury House symbol. It’s perfect. Plus it’s hot.”

Adam slips the jacket on over his undershirt and takes the jeans Brad hands him. They’re his favorite – tight with silver stitching up the sides. They fit perfectly over his rattlesnake boots.

“It’s so exciting to have someone around who actually has clothes worth wearing, oh my God,” Brad says. “Kristopher here would wear the same pair of jeans and lumberjack plaid every day if I let him get away with it.”

Kris flushes. Adam wants to tell him that he’d wear that combo every day too if he looked as good as Kris does in it. Adam’s pretty sure Kris would look good in a burlap sack, or a cardboard box, or nothing at all.

Now Adam is blushing. He slides the belt through the loops of his jeans just to have something to do with his hands.

Brad is looking at him intensely, as if assessing the situation.

“You’re so pretty,” Brad says, brushing some lint off the shoulder of Adam’s jacket. “I wish I was un-dressing you instead, but what can you do? Let’s go, boys!”

Kris rolls his eyes behind Brad’s back, and Adam muffles his laughter with his hand.

*

The Idol auditions take place in the large school auditorium, a square box of a room outfitted to look like a TV studio. Instruments are scattered around the stage, and there’s a large table in front where Professor Cowell and Professor Abdul sit, bickering loudly. A tall, thin, dark-haired woman wearing professor robes sashays in and takes a seat beside them, looking peeved.

“DioGuardi,” Brad murmurs, making Adam jump. “She’s a tough cookie. But if she likes you, she’ll advocate for you like crazy. Cowell is tricky, as you’ve seen, and Abdul is a total space case. Sweet, but a flake.”

“I don’t know about this,” Adam says, and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. He’s not usually nervous, but he doesn’t even know what he’s singing, or what they look for in magical show choir, or how the hell he got pushed into doing this at ass o’clock on a Saturday morning. He thinks it might have something to do with how unfairly attractive Kris looks in the morning, and that little half-smile he gave Adam when he said it would be so much fun, trust me, trust me.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Kris says. He’s tuning his guitar backstage, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a scrap of skin visible through the hole in the knee of his jeans. “You like music, right? I heard you grew up in some kind of music club.”

 _Some kind indeed_ , Adam thinks, then says: “Wait, who told you that?”

Kris opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by Danny Gokey, who flings the curtains open and narrows his eyes at Adam like he’s planning to kill him with the pure power of his stupid, ugly glasses.

“I’m gonna kick your ass, Lambert,” Danny snarls.

“Are you going to sing ‘Jesus, Take the Wheel’ again?” Brad sneers at him. “Nobody liked that last year, you know. Everybody was just afraid to say anything in case it, like, offended Jesus, but I can say that your performance was enough to at least annoy the fuck out of Him, so—”

“I see Lambert’s already employed you as part of his pixie posse,” Danny says. “He moves fast. Allen, you a member? I’m disappointed in you, dude.”

“Card-carrying,” Kris says, rising from the floor and slinging his guitar over his shoulder. “And I don’t really care if you’re disappointed.”

“Look, why don’t we just let the best man win?” Adam says, stepping between Kris and Brad and Danny. Danny twitches visibly, and Adam can see he’s still leaving trails of glitter whenever he moves. He smothers a smile.

“The best man will be me,” Danny finishes, and turns on his heel and stomps off, followed closely by a couple of his Kanye House compatriots, who level intense glares at Adam as they pass.

“Great,” Adam sighs. “I’ve only been here a couple days and I’ve already made enemies for life.”

“Everyone awesome has enemies,” Kris says, placing a hand on Adam’s shoulder and squeezing. “Don’t even worry about it.”

Adam smiles at him weakly. He feels the imprint of Kris’ hand even when he’s long gone, watching him stride out on the stage when Professor Cowell calls his name.

Kris adjusts the mic to his height and strum a few idle chords on his guitar, and then he launches into a song that takes Adam a moment to place.

“Holy shit,” Brad whispers. “He’s pwning Kanye House with a Kanye song.”

Brad’s right – it’s “Heartless,” a stripped-down, acoustic version. It’s beautiful. Kris is beautiful. His voice is strong and expressive, and he’s so sweet up there as he sings about a wicked lover ripping out his heart. 

_I would never do that to you, Kris_ , Adam thinks, and has to physically shake himself to snap himself out of it. 

Kris strums one last chord and finishes to massive applause from his classmates. He bows to the judges and grins at the crowd.

“He’s good,” Adam says.

“Who, Kris?” Brad says. “Of course he is. He plays like six instruments, too, the asshole.”

“Are you nervous?” Adam asks.

Brad gives him a look like he’s drunk the Kool-Aid. “Honey, I don’t want to be in show choir. I don’t do teamwork. I’m just here for moral support.”

“You’re being really nice to me,” Adam says. “I’m not sure why.”

Brad gives him a tight once-over. “Well, you’re a hottie, first of all, but I’m not delusional. I know you’ve got it bad for Kris, which is understandable. He’s fine as fuck.”

Adam starts to say something, but closes his mouth when he realizes anything he’d say would be a lie, and Brad does not seem like someone who takes bullshit well.

“I think you’re interesting,” Brad continues, examining his nails. “You’re not like the other losers around here. You dress like the lovechild of David Bowie and Liberace. You grew up in a drag club in WeHo. You made Danny Gokey sparkly. Each of these is reason alone to like you, but to be honest? I knew we were going to be friends when you let me put mascara on you.”

“That was good mascara,” Adam says.

“I know, right?” Brad says. “And you appreciate that. So obviously you’re cool.”

Adam smiles.

“Now go out there and knock ‘em dead,” Brad says, and gives Adam a little shove. 

Adam trots out on stage, his heart beating overtime.

“Lambert,” Professor Cowell says, his voice dripping with derision. “Think you can handle show choir? You’ve had quite an eventful first few days.”

“I do think I can handle it, sir,” Adam says, though he can feel his cheeks burning. 

“What’ll you be singing for us, sweetie?” Professor DioGuardi asks, looking up at him with heavily-lined brown eyes. 

Adam realizes abruptly that he hasn’t chosen a song. He’s got about a million that he knows – Uncle Marvin always encouraged him to rotate his set for the show, so he was constantly learning new ones. 

He remembers, suddenly, the last song that he performed at the club. It was the night that everything went down – only three days ago, he realizes – though it feels like an eternity. 

When he walked off stage his uncle was standing in the wings, crying.

 _Are you okay?_ Adam asked, wrapping a hand around his uncle’s arm.

 _I’m fine_ , Marvin said, wiping away a tear and smearing his eyeliner. _I’m okay, honey, I just – you don’t even realize—_

 _What?_ Adam asked, his heart caught in his throat. He hated seeing his uncle sad.

 _How incredible you are_ , he said. _I am so proud of you, Adam._

And then the stage exploded.

“I’m going to sing ‘Mad World,’” Adam says, “by Tears for Fears.”

Professor Cowell makes a sour face, but Adam doesn’t care. 

_This is for you_ , Adam thinks, lifting his chin towards the sky. _I miss you._

When he sings all his feelings from the last three days become part of the song – all the anger and fear and confusion and sadness. It hurts, and Adam knows he might be crying, but it feels so good to be back on solid ground. 

Adam may be a wizard now, but he was a singer first.

He finishes with a high, clear note that echoes across the auditorium. When he opens his eyes the first thing he sees is Kris – Kris, who is standing at the base of the stage, staring up at him, eyes wide and maybe a little wet; Kris, who looks like he’s just been hit by a bus; Kris, who takes in a gasping breath like he hasn’t inhaled since Adam started singing.

The crowd explodes with applause, but Adam doesn’t register it. He doesn’t even care if he makes show choir. 

All he can see is Kris.

*

Adam and Kris do make the team – they are the only ones who do from Mercury House, other than Allison, who is bouncy and cute but sings like Janis Joplin after a few shots of SoCo.

“You are so amazing, oh my God,” Adam tells her. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Fourteen,” Allison says. “But I’ve been singing for, like, forever.”

“It shows, girl,” Adam says, and Allison beams.

The new members of the other teams are Danny Gokey, from Kanye House, and his large roommate Michael, who is more good-natured than Danny but kind of an idiot. He informs Adam that he knows Kanye House’s mission is “righteous,” and that’s when Adam decides to tune him out. 

Scott and Megan round out Henley House. Scott is a dynamo on piano but is nearly blind; one day Adam helps guide Scott to his place with a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Scott teaches him the bass line of “Dirty Laundry” to return the favor. Megan is laid back and quirky, and enjoys poking fun at Adam’s more showy vocal maneuvers in a good-natured way. She tells him about her parents, one of whom was a Muggle and one who was a wizard, and how it was hard growing up split between the two worlds. Adam certainly sympathizes. 

Anoop and Matt and Lil represent the Wonder House team. Anoop and Lil seem pretty chill – Lil likes Adam’s clothes and asks him for make-up tips, and Anoop just hangs out and sings Boyz II Men and talks incessantly about North Carolina, where he’s from. And Matt – well, Matt is sort of obsessed with Kris, but Adam can’t really blame him for that. Adam is sort of obsessed with Kris too.

Adam’s days become a busy blur. He’s got a full class schedule and about five years of catch-up to do, plus now he’s got show choir after school, which entails practices and classes on “musical magic.” The way Kris explains it, music acts as a fuel for a certain kind of magical spell, and the key – as is the case with most kinds of magic – is to figure out how to harness and control it. 

Professor DioGuardi spends a lot of time talking to them about how music is a force, how it’s powerful and beautiful but also dangerous. Adam never thought of music as being potentially dangerous before, but when he watches Danny sing until his voice cracks and then blow up a cabinet in the music room, he begins to think differently.

Danny continues to be a pain in the ass. One day at show choir practice Danny situates himself next to Adam and whispers, “Faggot,” just loud enough for Adam to hear.

Adam loses it. He whirls around, grasps Danny by the throat and shoves him into a wall, his wand tip pressing into Danny’s neck.

“Do you know what that word means?” Adam asks through gritted teeth. “Maybe I should give you a history lesson. In Britain it means ‘bundle of sticks.’ Do you know what they do with bundles of sticks? They burn them, Danny. Because that’s what people want to do to gay people. And you know who else they used to burn because they were different?”

Danny is gasping for air. Adam loosens his grip, letting him collapse against the wall with a shudder.

“Wizards and witches,” Adam breathes. “So maybe we’re all just a bunch of faggots, you self-righteous douchebag.”

Danny looks at Adam with wide, terrified eyes, and then he flees. He doesn’t return to choir practice that day, and nobody will tell Professor DioGuardi where he’s gone when she asks.

Adam isn’t very good at anything magical yet. Brad meets up with him at the library after dinner nearly every day and they study late into the night, but at a certain point all the spells and incantations and potions become a fuzzy mess, a concoction of cryptic crap Adam can’t decipher or comprehend. 

“I suck at this,” Adam tells Brad one night when he’s struggling not to pass out in the middle of their Transfigurations homework. “I’m always going to suck.”

Brad grabs his hand and squeezes.

“You don’t suck,” Brad says. “This is hard. Don’t be hard on yourself. You just have to keep trying.”

Adam is tired of trying. He wishes something could be easy for once, easy the way singing has always been easy. He didn’t ask for this life, and each day he struggles, the more he wonders if there’s some way he can leave it behind.

*

Adam’s at breakfast the next morning when Sparkle Motion climbs up his pants leg and deposits a tiny envelope on the table.

“Where have you been?” Adam asks. “I’ve been looking for you for two weeks.”

He could swear that Sparkle Motion shrugs.

“Obviously she’s been getting this message for you,” Brad says. “Open it!”

Adam slides his finger under the flap of the envelope, pulling out a small piece of paper. On it is written a message in big block letters.

**I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.**

He shivers. Those five words are the only ones written on the page, but they make Adam feel sick inside. There’s no signature, no threatening symbol, and yet he’s pretty sure he knows who sent it. 

“Wait, what’s that?” Kris asks, and leans over, but Adam snatches it away.

“Nothing,” Adam says. “Eat your breakfast.”

Kris gives him a strange look, but doesn’t push him. Allison is showing Brad the red ribbon she braided into her hair, so he’s lost interest, and Adam thanks God for Brad’s ADD. He folds the paper into quarters and sticks it back into the envelope. Sparkle Motion gives him the saddest possible look a unicorn can conjure up, and Adam pets her until she preens.

*

If Adam is a bit more quiet than usual in class, no one seems to notice. He spends Potions going over every Protection spell he knows in his head, concentrating so fiercely that Brad writes _WTF_ on a piece of parchment and slips it under his fingers. Adam shrugs, curls his lip and looks away.

At show choir rehearsal, Professor DioGuardi shows them the musical magic mastery charm. It’s surprisingly uncomplicated – you must be on pitch and in tune, but other than that, she explains, “It’s easy—all you need is love.”

She laughs at her little joke, and the rest of the class titters awkwardly. 

“You must think of people you love,” Professor DioGuardi says. “And it is that combination of love and song that will make you powerful.”

Adam is so distracted that he flubs his first two attempts, and manages a lame excuse for a disarming spell on his third. Professor DioGuardi looks at him with concern, but Adam is so tired of pretending to care about this right now. Fuck musical magic. Someone is stalking him, and it is creeping him out.

Kris sidelines Adam after rehearsal and backs him into their room, ignoring Adam’s protests.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Kris says. “Just tell me, okay? I already lost one roommate. I don’t want to lose another because I – didn’t pay enough attention to what was going on.”

“Nothing is going on,” Adam lies. “I’m kind of…I’m feeling sad, I guess. About my uncle.”

It may not be the total truth, but it’s also not a complete lie. There are moments – less frequent than right after it happened, but still frequent enough – when Adam feels so destroyed by the absence of his uncle that there’s no room for anything else. He becomes this scrunched up wad of grief and anger and frustration and confusion and loneliness, and he is small and afraid and missing, missing, missing. Missing his uncle, missing a part of himself, missing L.A. and the club and his former life, everything that ugly man took away from him in one single, terrible night.

“You’re allowed to miss him, you know,” Kris says.

“I know,” Adam whispers, and Kris presses his hand to Adam’s cheek.

*

“Why are you still in bed?”

Adam cracks an eye open the next morning to see Brad rooting through his closet. This is a common occurrence, but there’s something particularly frantic about his movements, and Adam is so tired. He longs for the days when he occasionally got to sleep in.

“Mmmmph,” Kris groans, and rolls over in bed. “Time is it?”

“It’s like 8 am, and you two are not awake, and we have to go shopping,” Brad says. “Do you not know what day it is?”

Kris makes some adorable snuffling sounds and presses his face into the pillow.

“It’s Halloween!” Brad says. “There’s a party tonight! Do you have costumes? Probably not, because you’re both incompetent.”

“I’ve been trying to catch up on five years of magical schooling,” Adam mumbles. He rubs at his eyes. “I’ve been kind of busy.”

“Well, tonight we celebrate,” Brad says. “So get up, pretty boy. You’re coming too, Allen. We need an audience.”

“Don’t you always,” Kris murmurs.

When they’re both up and dressed, Brad hustles them off the school grounds and out into the forest. 

“Where are you taking us?” Kris asks. “I don’t like the forest very much. Last time I went out here I got enchanted.”

“We’re not going anywhere in the forest, princess,” Brad says, and opens his bag to reveal a pair of handcuffs.

“Whoa,” Kris says. “I don’t know, man—“

“They’re a portkey, you idiot,” Brad says. “I didn’t want to do this out in the open – people might get suspicious.”

“I’m not even going to ask where you got those,” Kris says.

“Are we not allowed to do this?” Adam asks.

“Just touch the handcuffs,” Brad says, narrowing his eyes. “You too, Kristopher.”

Adam and Kris both reach for the handcuffs at the same time, and their hands brush. Adam feels the charge shiver up his arm from his fingertips, and he swallows a gasp.

“Oh my God,” Brad is saying. “You two are so—“

But he doesn’t get a chance to finish that sentence, because the next moment they are blinking in the florescent light of the American Rag dressing room.

“There are so many reasons why this was a bad idea,” Kris says. 

“I disagree,” Brad says. “Shopping is never a bad idea.”

He marches out of the dressing room and into the store, and Adam and Kris look at each other, confused. 

“I don’t know how we get ourselves into these situations,” Kris sighs.

Adam shrugs and follows Kris out into the store. 

It’s weird, but standing there in this place he’s known for ages, Adam feels a rush of sadness. He can remember Halloween at Digital Glitter, how the whole place would swell with people in crazy costumes, and the club would pulse with thumpa-thumpa dance music, and everyone was beautiful. Adam dressed up as a wizard one year, long purple robes streaked with glittery stars, boots that came to his knees. The irony does not escape him. He wonders, for a moment, what wizards dress up as for Halloween. Do they try to look merely human? 

“Hey, Adam,” Kris calls from across the store. “I think I want to be an angel!”

Adam blinks the room back into focus. He’s standing in front of a display case of jeans. He turns to see Kris holding up a pair of white, fluttery angel wings, delicate and beautiful.

“That’s so hot,” Brad says, examining Kris’ wings. “I don’t know what I’m going to be, but it’s going to involve feathers.”

“I want to be a superhero,” Adam says suddenly.

“We know, honey,” Brad deadpans. “But what do you want to be for Halloween?”

*

“Seriously, Brad, we have to get back,” Kris says, physically dragging Brad away from the racks of clothing. “We have our first Idol tournament today, and it would suck to be late.”

“You bitches are no fun,” Brad says. “I don’t even know why I hang out with you.”

“Just get us back where we came from,” Adam says. “We have costumes. We’re prepared. Everything is going to be okay.”

“I get excited about Halloween, okay,” Brad says. “It’s my favorite holiday.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Kris says with a grin, and Brad shoves him hard enough to send him into the wall of the dressing room.

“Touch the mirror, asshole,” Brad says, and when they both reach out Brad says, “ _Portus!_ ” and the walls melt away.

“Ug, I feel sick,” Adam says, and collapses onto the floor of their bedroom.

Kris actually drops to his knees and dry heaves into the trashcan. Brad makes dismissive motions with his hands and walks out, mumbling to himself.

“Is he gone?” Kris asks.

“That was very convincing,” Adam says.

Kris gives Adam a high five. “Let’s suit up.”

*

There are way more people at the Idol tournament than Adam anticipated – he thinks all the seats are filled. Adam knows Kris said Idol was the most popular thing going at No Boundaries, but he didn’t quite grasp the reality of the situation until he’s standing backstage, peeking through the red velvet curtain.

“You’re going to do amazing,” Kris says. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I know you will.”

“I’m not so nervous about the singing,” Adam says. “I am kind of nervous about the magic.”

“I’ve got your back,” Kris says, then begins singing, “Ain’t no sunshine when she’s goooone…”

Adam is temporarily distracted by the way Kris’ neck moves as he sings, but Allison snaps him out of it, smacking him on the back and shouting, “Get your head in the game, boy!”

Kris is up first. He sits down at the piano and begins playing, drawing the notes out of the instrument, and soon matches his voice to the melody he plays. As he sings he begins to shimmer, slightly, with green light.

Danny appears, singing over Kris, loud and obnoxious but still – unfortunately – on-key. Kris stumbles a little, seeming to forget the lyrics. Danny’s shameless, and seriously, Adam cannot watch this. Danny is not going to beat them with fucking _Rascal Flatts_.

Danny extends his wand and aims it at Kris, and the first spell he casts Kris easily deflects with a shielding spell. 

The second time, Kris is not so lucky. Danny targets the piano, shouting “ _Bombarda_!” and his spell hits one corner of the Baby Grand, causing an explosion that throws it out of tune. Kris looks upset, and stands to face Danny alone.

Adam thinks, _no, no, no, not alone, never alone_. 

He steps out from behind the curtain and begins to sing.

Kris turns to see him, and a smile breaks out across his face.

 _And I know, I know, I know, I know_ , they sing together, and Adam advances on Danny with each word, wand extended. 

Danny pales and casts a weak disarming spell with a strangled “ _Expelliarmus_!”

Adam dodges it and retaliates. 

“ _Aguamenti_ ,” he spits, and a stream of water blasts Danny in the face.

“Had to save your boyfriend, didn’t you, Lambert?” Danny splutters.

The cheering is so loud Adam knows nobody heard Danny but him. Still, he pushes his wand into Danny’s chest, making him wince.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Gokey,” he whispers.

*

“What, what, is that _Adam Lambert_? Oh my gawd,” Brad says, and loops his arm through Adam’s. “You are so famous, Idol superstah.”

Adam is blushing something fierce, and he’s pretty sure Brad can tell even with all the silver eyeliner and body glitter he put on his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” Adam tells him. Brad really is, in his skintight red leather pants and silky red shirt and red feather boa flung over his shoulders. “What are you even supposed to be? Did you decide?”

“I’m the devil,” Brad says. “Fierce and fabulous. It’s what the fundies would have you believe, right?”

“So what you’re saying is the devil wears Prada?” Adam says with a lift of an eyebrow. 

Brad snorts. “I wish. Dance with me, Superfag.”

“Yeaaaaah, capes!” 

Kris practically flings himself at Adam, hugging him from behind. When he finally lets him go, Adam has to readjust his cape to keep from getting strangled by it.

“Somebody’s been in the Butterbeer,” Brad drawls.

“You don’t know anything,” Kris says. “Nothing at all, Bradley.”

“Never call me that again,” Brad says, and flounces off.

The Mercury House common room sparkles with what seems to be thousands of little lights, dotting the ceiling like stars. There’s soft, ethereal music coming from everywhere at once, and the atmosphere feels almost…sultry. As sultry as any high school party can feel, anyway.

And then there’s Kris, standing in front of him in white silk pants and angel wings, a silver halo circling his head. Brad enchanted the halo so it hovers above him, making him glow with white light. Kris’ eyes are lined with silver too, and there are silver streaks in his brown hair. He does look like an angel. He’s mesmerizing, and gorgeous, and he’s smiling at Adam in this sweet, sleepy way that makes Adam want to push him into a wall and kiss him until he can’t breathe.

He touches Adam’s bare arm, fingers skimming the skin above his elbow, and stands on his tiptoes to brush his lips over Adam’s. The almost-kiss is over before Adam has a chance to process it, and all he leaves behind is a heat signature, an aura.

“Thank you,” Kris whispers. “For helping me today.”

“You’re on my team,” Adam says, but they both know it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t even about Gokey being an asshole, or winning the tournament. 

_I’ve got your back_ , Kris said. _If you ever want to talk, I’m here_. Kris has been so open to him, ever since Adam arrived, ever since he stooped down in that closet and told him things were going to be okay.

 _If you say run, I’ll run with you_ , David Bowie sings, and Adam wants – he wants Kris to know this is how he feels, too. But instead he bites his lip and watches Kris wander off, wings floating behind him as if he could take flight at any moment.

*

There is a note waiting for Adam in his room when he returns from the dance, sweaty and giddy from the music and drink and company. He doesn’t want to open it. He thinks about throwing it away, but knows it will do no good. _There is nothing to fear about the future except being unprepared for it._

Adam slides a fingernail under the flap of the envelope, and finds a small card inscribed with the same glittery pen.

**SOON.**

He swallows. His fingers find his necklace, the jagged edges pricking his skin. He thinks: _Protect me now._

*

Adam wakes up in the middle of the night shaking from nightmares, sweat soaking the sheets, his hair a bristly mess from twisting and turning in his sleep. He gasps when he sees a figure perched on the edge of his bed and makes a move for his wand, but a quiet voice says, “Relax, Adam, it’s just me.”

Kris catches Adam’s wrist and holds it loosely between his fingers. Adam tries to breathe. He wants to tell Kris everything, to tell him how confused and afraid he is, how it doesn’t matter how good he is at Idol or how well he does in Potions because somebody out there wants to hurt him and won’t stop at anything to do it.

But he can’t. He can’t because he doesn’t want to sound like Danny Gokey, because he doesn’t want to put Kris in danger too, because he doesn’t want to make him afraid.

“You’re burning up,” Kris says. “You were making these noises like—”

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Adam mumbles, and Kris squeezes Adam’s wrist.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kris says. “I’m sorry you’re having bad dreams.”

Adam can feel Kris shift on the bed to get closer, his knee brushing Adam’s thigh. At some point Adam must have thrown off all his blankets, because he’s lying on just the sheets now, clad only in his boxers. He wants to cover himself up, but Kris is still holding on to him.

“Let me try something,” Kris says, and lets go of Adam’s wrist and presses his palms to Adam’s chest. 

Adam’s whole body goes rigid at Kris’ touch.

“ _Frigus_ ,” Kris mutters, and all of sudden Adam’s skin feels cool, like he’s slid under chilly ocean water. He shivers, and Kris chuckles. “Maybe that worked a little too well.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Adam gasps.

“Cooling you off,” Kris says. “You feel cooler, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Now I have to warm you up again,” Kris says, and nudges Adam with his knee. “Move over.”

Adam slides over obediently, not even aware of what’s happening until Kris climbs into bed with him and pulls the covers over them both.

“You’re not so bad at magic, are you?” Adam whispers as Kris slips his arms around Adam’s waist.

“It’s my dirty little secret,” Kris murmurs, and Adam really wishes Kris wouldn’t say words like _dirty_ when he’s pressed up against Adam like that.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Go to sleep, Adam,” Kris whispers, and Adam thinks he can feel Kris’ heart beat, and his hand moving softly through Adam’s hair. He falls asleep thinking of ocean, and warm sun, and places where everything is safe, always.

*

Classes pass uneventfully the next day. After dinner, Kris and Adam climb up to Mercury Tower and find a note in an envelope on the floor with a very apologetic-looking Sparkle Motion standing beside it.

The envelope is black and edged with silver. Adam opens it with shaking fingers, and out falls three photographs.

“What is—“ Kris starts to say, but Adam gathers up the photographs, tugs Kris into their bedroom and slams the door behind them.

“Just be quiet for a minute,” Adam says. “Just – I’m sorry, but please.”

Kris mimes sealing his lips, and Adam turns over the photos on the bed. They are of a young couple, a tall man with clear blue eyes and a friendly face, and a woman with dark hair and dark eyes and a sweet smile. They are dressed in Mercury House robes, purple with silver trim, and they look happy.

They also look familiar. Adam tilts his head to one side and considers them, thinking about where he might have seen them before. They’re wizards, obviously. Why would Adam have seen—

His breath catches.

“I think,” he whispers, “these are my parents.”

Kris looks at the photograph, running his finger over the edge. “They are?”

 _My parents were wizards_ , Adam realizes. “Holy shit, my parents were—“

“There’s something on the back,” Kris says, and sure enough, in glittery pen are written the following words:

**EVERYTHING YOU KNOW IS WRONG.**

Kris recoils in horror. Adam can’t breathe. He picks up another photo: it’s his uncle posing with him when he was little, when Adam dressed up as a bear for Halloween. His uncle is grinning, and Adam looks so happy he’s nearly glowing. Adam always was happiest when he was dressed up as something else.

On the back is written: **IT IS YOUR FAULT.**

Adam sits down on the edge of the bed. His fingers are trembling as he picks up the final photograph. It’s of a young boy, maybe eight years old, sitting on the edge of a sandbox, holding up a toy robot and smiling. He has a gap between his front teeth, and he, too, looks familiar, though Adam doesn’t know from where.

 _He looks like me_ , Adam thinks, and flips over the photo, dread curling in the pit of his stomach.

 **THIS IS YOUR BROTHER NEIL** , it reads. **HE’S NOT DEAD…YET.**

Suddenly there is a loud thunderclap, and all the lights go out.

“Dangit!” he can hear Kris curse in the dark, and then the clatter of him tripping over something and falling.

“Kris!” Adam says, and squints, trying to get his eyes to adjust. He crouches down on his hands and knees and crawls across the floor, then runs into something and goes sprawling. He grasps at the nearest object and catches a fistful of soft material.

“ _Lumos_ ,” Kris says, and a soft glow fills the room. Adam realizes with some embarrassment that he’s currently draped over Kris, hand tangled in Kris’ shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Adam says, and begins to pull away, but Kris places a gentle hand on Adam’s shoulder and holds him still.

“Stay,” Kris says. “I’m sure the lamps will go back on soon. No point in stumbling around.”

Adam feels the heat of Kris’ hand through the fabric of his shirt. He shifts so they are lying side-by-side on the floor and exhales heavily.

“You didn’t know your parents were wizards?” Kris asks softly.

“I don’t know much about my parents,” Adam says. “They died when I was very young.”

“What do you think the notes mean?” Kris asks. “I mean, if you—I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you—“

“It’s okay,” Adam says. “I think – see, there was this guy who – he’s sort of the reason I’m here. He showed up and he killed my uncle and that’s when Randy appeared and told me he was going to take me to this magical school—“

“And you think he’s still trying to kill you?” Kris asks. “That’s what these notes are about?”

“There have been other notes, too,” Adam says softly.

“Adam,” Kris says, fingers digging into Adam’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Adam demands. “’I’ve got a stalker, sucks to be me?’”

“Yeah, maybe!” Kris exclaims. “Then we could’ve done something about it!”

Even in his current state of agitation, Adam likes how Kris says “we.”

“Wait,” Kris says. “What was the name of the kid – the one in the third photo?”

Adam passes Kris the photo, and Kris’ eyes go wide.

“Neil,” Kris says. “I used to know a Neil.”

“Used to?” Adam says slowly.

“He didn’t come back to school this term,” Kris says. “People were saying he was sick or something, or maybe his parents didn’t want him here anymore, but I thought it was weird he’d disappeared—“

“Disappeared like Gokey’s future wife?” Adam says.

Kris swallows. “Maybe.”

“This is crazy,” Adam flails. “People disappearing? My parents are wizards, I have a brother I didn’t know about—“

“He was my roommate,” Kris says.

Adam blinks. “Say again?”

“Neil,” Kris says, more slowly, “was my roommate.”

“This is too weird,” Adam says. “Did the school know we’re brothers? Did they—“

“We have to do something,” Kris says, voice thin and strained, “about this man who’s trying to kill you.”

“We do,” Adam says. “But I don’t know what.”

“I think I know what we have to do first,” Kris says.

“What’s that?” Adam asks.

Kris’ eyes are serious and sad.

“We have to find your brother,” he says. “We have to rescue Neil.”

The lights suddenly flicker on, and there is a loud commotion in the common room. Kris pushes open the door to see Brad standing there, flailing.

“She was _right here_ ,” Brad says. “What the fuck! She was right here!”

“Who was right here?” Kris asks, glancing around the room.

“Allison!” Brad exclaims. “She was here, and then the lights went out, and now she’s gone!”

Adam and Kris exchange a look.

“What the hell, she better be hiding in a closet or something,” Brad says. “I am totally freaked out right now.”

“Brad,” Adam says, “calm down.”

“I’m calm!” Brad says, eyes wild. “I’m freaked out, but also calm! What? Allison disappeared, are you not wigging out?”

“Can you do us a favor?” Adam asks.

“A couple of favors,” Kris puts in.

Brad places one hand on his hip. “Depends.”

“If someone was looking to hide people away inside this school, where would be a good place to hide them?” Kris asks.

Brad wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know, there are a ton of nooks and crannies in this place. It’s way old and created by wizards.”

“Somewhere with tight security,” Adam prods. “Somewhere they wouldn’t think to look.”

“I know the crypt has, like, magical protection up the wazoo,” Brad says. “It’s not, like, Ministry-level but it’s pretty badass for an academic institution – why the fuck are you asking me this?”

“Here’s the favor,” Adam says. “Don’t ask us that question.”

“But—“

“And now we need you to do what you do best,” Kris says. “Create a diversion.”

Brad gives Kris the prissiest look he can possibly conjure up. “Are you serious?”

Adam just pouts, and Kris looks like such a sad puppy that Adam can almost hear the ice cracking around Brad’s cold, cold heart.

He glares at them and mutters, “You owe me so big for this, oh my God.”

Then he turns around and shouts, “I found pictures of Professor DioGuardi in a bikini!”

Adam and Kris duck out while their fellow Mercurys flock to Brad’s side, room abuzz with gossip and speculation.

“You know where the crypt is, right?” Adam asks.

“I figure it’s where the crypt always is,” Kris says. “ _Below_.”

They race through the hallway and down the stairs to the dining hall, then turn a corner into another corridor, then turn again, and again, until Adam has no idea where they are or how they’ll ever get back. Kris pulls Adam through a set of heavy iron doors and down a narrow set of stairs. They proceed to descend endless stairs, down and down and around until Adam is dizzy and panting. Kris – the athletic little bastard – is hardly winded. Adam nearly loses his footing (so maybe the heeled boots weren’t the most practical choice of footwear – Adam didn’t know he was going to be running a marathon today), and the light gets dimmer and dimmer as the candles flicker. 

Adam is so, so wigged out.

“Where the hell are we?” Adam asks.

“In the dungeon,” Kris says in a tremulous, spooky voice, and Adam punches him in the shoulder.

“Could you be serious for a second?” Adam says. “We might be in actual dang—“

Right then they both run directly into an invisible wall. Adam crumbles to the floor in pain, and Kris falls to his knees with a dull thud. 

“And there would be the security,” Kris gasps.

“Do you have any brilliant ideas on how to get past this?” Adam says. “We should’ve brought Brad.”

“Brad is awesome, but he sucks at stealth,” Kris says.

“Oh, and we’re total ninjas, right?” Adam says. “I would like to point out that we just ran into an invisible wall of magic.”

“It’s invisible,” Kris says. “It’s not our fault!”

There’s a cracking sound that makes them both jump, and then Allison’s voice fills the air, quiet and yet strong: “ _This flame that burns inside of me…I’m here in secret harmonies…_ ”

Kris is struggling to his feet. “Is that Allison? Where is she?”

“She’s not here,” Adam says. “It’s – vocal projection, I think? Professor DioGuardi talked about it one time.”

Kris gives him a strange look, and Adam says, “Hey, I pay attention in show choir, okay?”

“When you’re not showing off with Allison,” Kris says.

“I do not show off,” Adam says.

“Oh, and singing ‘Slow Ride’ as a completely amazing duet together isn’t showing off?” Kris asks.

“You thought it was amazing?” Adam asks, voice cracking.

Kris scuffs his shoe against the stone floor, scratching the back of his neck. “Can we focus? We have to figure out how to find her, remember?”

“I think maybe she’s trying to send us a message,” Adam says. “Maybe she’s saying we have to sing to get out of this.”

Kris looks at Adam blankly. “That’s – actually, wait, that makes a lot of sense.”

“So let’s do it,” Adam says.

“What should we sing?”

“ _Birds flying high, you know how I feel…_ ” Adam begins, and Kris makes a face.

“Choose something not in my range, why don’t you,” he whines, but Adam pokes him in the stomach and says, “It is totally in your range. CHALLENGE YOURSELF.”

And that’s how Adam ends up with his hand on Kris’ chest, just below his rib cage, saying, “Sing from here – from _here_ , you idiot—“

He can feel Kris breathing, lungs expanding as he hits one of the higher notes, and his eyes widen so he resembles a slightly perplexed otter. Adam smiles and harmonizes with him, and he should feel like a total nerd singing with Kris—just the two of them, with no audience but each other—but he doesn’t. It feels right, like it was something that was supposed to happen, like the stars lined up to create this moment rather than screwing him over like they’ve been doing for the past few months. When Adam looks down to where he’s touching Kris, he can see that they’re glowing – green and silver light, intertwined, all around them like a haze.

“ _It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life_ ,” they both sing, and Kris moves forward and presses his hand to the invisible wall, and suddenly it flickers and shimmers and then—

Then they are falling.

*

When Adam comes to, his head feels like it’s going to explode. His shoulder throbs like he jammed it against something, and he can’t feel his fingers.

“This was a bad idea,” Kris slurs.

He’s lying on his back, spread-eagled, and there’s blood streaking his cheek. Adam scrambles to his knees and crawls over to him, not caring about the pain. 

“Are you okay?” Adam asks, and touches Kris’ cheek gingerly. 

“Scratched up,” Kris says. “Where the hell are we?”

Adam looks around. It seems like a cave – it’s dark and damp and smells like mildew. There’s barely any light, just a tiny sliver from somewhere far off down the way, so far Adam can’t even see where the tunnel ends.

 _I don’t have a lot of time_ , a voice seems to echo from the walls. _Eat the magic mushrooms._

“Did you hear that?” Adam squeaks.

“Yes,” Kris says. “That’s – that’s Neil.”

“What the—“ Adam rubs at his eyes. “Did you forget to tell me that Neil is mentally ill? I am so not okay with this _if these walls could talk_ nonsense.”

Kris props himself up on his elbows, wipes away the blood on his cheek and says, “Uh, Adam? There are mushrooms.”

Adam whirls around. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of dirt in the center of the floor with stubby brown things protruding from it. It’s the only vegetation in the room. 

“Oh, no,” Adam says. “We’re supposed to eat those?”

Kris sighs, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Apparently yes.”

“This was a bad idea,” Adam mutters.

“Tell me about it,” Kris says, then crawls across the floor, plucks the mushrooms from the ground and hands one to Adam. “Bon appétit.”

“You’re crazy,” Adam says. “Weren’t you ever a Boy Scout? You don’t eat random fungi. It could kill you.”

“I was never a Boy Scout,” Kris says very seriously. “I don’t even know what that is. But I think if Neil says so, we need to eat these mushrooms.”

Adam grabs Kris’ arms and squeezes. “We could die, Kris.”

“And so could any one of the other kids who have disappeared,” Kris says. “I feel like – there’s a reason we’re here, okay? And I trust you. We’ll make sure each other are safe.”

Adam is so gone. He stares into Kris’ pretty dark brown eyes and he _knows_. Adam has never been in love before, but he is more sure than anything in this world that this is what it feels like. It’s terrifying. It’s strange. It’s exciting.

It’s scarier than any magic psychedelic mushrooms.

He takes one of the small brown caps from Kris and pops it in his mouth and chews. Kris does the same, and Adam gets temporarily sidetracked watching Kris’ throat work.

 _Okay, self_ , Adam thinks. _Save the world now, mack on tiny, hot roommate later._

But he has no more time to reflect, because that’s when the mushrooms hit him like a fishtailing school bus. His eyes cross, and he’s only half-conscious of Kris’ hand on his shoulder, his frantic voice saying, “Adam? Adam?”

Adam is in someone’s living room – a living room filled with smoke, but he doesn’t feel the need to cough. He reaches out and watches the smoke pass through his hand, realizing that this is some kind of dream or memory. He’s only a ghost here. He can observe but do nothing.

“Leila,” he hears a voice say, “where are you?”

“Eber, don’t – I can’t see you—honey—“

The whole room shakes with a thunderous sound, and for a moment Adam is paralyzed by the vibrations, running through his body. It’s too loud, too much. Terrible, just like that night—

“Stay where you are, Lamberts, and no one will get hurt,” a low voice emanates from one corner of the room, followed by a malevolent chuckle. “Well, that’s a lie. But if you don’t try to run this might hurt a little less.”

The smoke clears enough for Adam to see the man standing there, tall and menacing in high platform boots, skintight vinyl pants, and a shiny black shirt open to reveal his hairy chest with chain links criss-crossing it. His head seems to be sprouting a tiny ponytail on top of his head like some kind of demented samurai, and his face is painted with elaborate black and white make-up.

 _No_ , Adam thinks. _No way, no—_

“Gene,” a tall blue-eyed man Adam recognizes from the photograph says, “we can work this out. You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, but I do,” Gene says, and points a wand at the woman Adam guesses is Leila. “I don’t want you. Give me the baby and you can go. I’m a sweet guy, Eber – once you get to know me.”

“I’m not interested in getting to know you,” Eber says through gritted teeth. “And I’m not giving you my son. I don’t care what the prophecy says.”

“But I want to rock and roll all night,” Gene says, narrowing his eyes, “and party every day.”

“Then do it, do whatever you want,” Eber says. “You don’t need my son to do that.”

“The prophecy says your son is going to be the greatest singer this world has ever seen,” Gene says. “His power right now is pure and untainted and unused. With it I can do anything – I can create the greatest rock and roll party band of all time!”

“My son is only three years old,” Leila says. “He’s only a baby—“

“All the better,” Gene says. “He’ll never know what he’s missing.”

With that he lets loose a stream of black, glittery magic from his wand that encircles Leila’s throat and brings her to her knees. She opens her mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

“NO!” Eber screams, and temporarily distracts Gene with a “ _Protego!_ ” that deflects his spell.

But it’s not enough. Gene whirls around and shouts, “ _Immobulus!_ ” rendering Eber unable to move. While he’s paralyzed, Gene hits him with “ _Crucio!_ ” Eber doubles over in pain.

Adam can’t watch this. He can’t stand it, he can’t see this man do this anymore—

“Adam! Dangit, wake up!”

Adam gasps and coughs, eyes flying open. Kris is straddling him and shaking him frantically, his face pale with fright.

“What—what happened?” Adam rasps. “What happened to me?”

“You went into some kind of trance,” Kris says. “You kept saying something about Gene Simmons – how he was trying to suck everyone dry—“

“For the music,” Adam whispers, throat still raw. “He wants to take all of our musical magic, consume it so he can make his band the most powerful band in the world.”

“What the heck is going on here?”

Adam would know that voice anywhere. He doesn’t even have to look.

“Gokey,” Adam says, craning his neck to see him. “How did you get down here?”

“I followed you,” Danny says, emerging from the shadows. Kris climbs off of Adam, cheeks pink. “I saw you two sneak off. I knew you were up to no good.”

Adam manages – with some help from Kris – to get himself upright again. Danny is standing there, body rigid, wand at the ready. 

“I saw you freak out, Lambert,” he says. “There was something not…right about that.”

“Of course it wasn’t right,” Adam says. “I was hallucinating about how my parents died, you asshole.”

“How did your parents die?” Danny asks, because he’s nosy, and also has no tact.

“Gene Simmons killed them,” Adam says. “And he killed my uncle, and he wants to kill me, and he’s going to kill Allison and Neil and your future wife if we don’t stop him.”

Danny blanches. “He – he has Sophia?”

“We think so,” Adam says. “We think he’s had her for awhile. I think he kidnapped her so he could get to you, just like he kidnapped Neil to bait me. He’s getting bolder, though. I think he kidnapped Allison just to take her magic.”

Danny clenches his hands into fists at his sides and steps forward. “Where is he? I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna follow our lead,” Kris says, putting out one hand and pressing it against Danny’s chest.

“Oh, I don’t think—“

“I will stun the fuck out of you,” Adam says, raising his wand. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Danny swallows. “What do we do?”

“I think,” Kris says, and turns to face the endless tunnel, “we go down there.”

“How do you know?” Adam asks.

“The mushrooms didn’t affect me the way they affected you,” Kris says. “I only saw one thing.”

Kris reaches out and touches Adam’s neck. 

“Your necklace,” Kris murmurs, his eyes hazy and dark. “In the dream – it was a key.”

*

“I am not going to die,” Danny says as they inch down the nearly pitch black tunnel. “I am not going to die, I am not going to die, I am not—“

“You are so going to die if you don’t shut the fuck up,” Adam hisses.

Kris squeezes his hand, and Adam bites back the next twelve mean things he was going to say to Danny, because _seriously_.

There is another thumping noise and a crash, and Adam can feel Kris stiffen beside him, even though he can’t see him.

“You’re sure it was down this way,” Adam says.

“In the dream, yes,” Kris says. “Just a little farther and—“

Kris rounds a corner and light seems to explode from everywhere – so much light that Adam squints against it and nearly loses his balance.

When his eyes stop stinging, Adam can see that up ahead there are stairs, stairs that go up so far they seem to ascend into heaven. He blinks, feeling his heart drop.

“You have to climb those,” Kris says. “At the top, there’s a place to put the key.”

Adam fingers the necklace, feeling the smooth silver slide under his fingertip. He holds Kris’ gaze for a moment, thinking: _I trust you._

“We’re here,” Kris says. “We’ll be here, no matter what.”

 _I love you_ , Adam wants to say. _You’re the best friend I’ve ever had._

But instead he squares his shoulders and says, “I’ll be back.”

The stairs go on forever, and by the time Adam reaches the top, he can’t even see the bottom anymore. He sways a little, experiencing vertigo, but manages to steady himself on the block of marble that’s cemented into the top step. His hand finds purchase – and also a surprise.

There, lying on the marble block, is a small electric guitar. It looks like something a child might play. It’s black and silver and beautiful.

And in the center, just beneath the frets, is an indentation the size and shape of a tiny lightning bolt.

Adam struggles to breathe. He thinks of Allison, and Sophia, and Neil, the brother he’s never known. He thinks of his parents, cowering on the floor, desperate to protect their son. He thinks of his uncle, dead before Adam could reach him, could try to save him.

He thinks: _I can do this._

And he fits his necklace into the guitar.

The pyrotechnic explosion that happens is more insane than any concert Adam’s ever seen. There are fireworks and billowing smoke and flames that shoot from unseen places, and suddenly the stairs are gone, and Adam is lying on cold tile, and there is Gene Simmons, looming over him, grinning like a crazy person, which – Adam supposes – he is.

He looks much like he did in the dream, shrouded in black leather and wearing chunky boots, face painted with wild and abstract designs. He looks especially striking in this all-white room, a dark blotch on blank page. 

“Hello, Adam,” he says. “Long time no see.”

That’s when Adam sees Neil – a body pinned against the far wall, held there by some invisible magical force.

He knows it’s Neil, because they look alike, sort of – Neil’s hair is naturally dark, while Adam’s is a dye job, but they’ve got the same sort of bone structure, the same tall, broad build. And Adam knows it’s Neil because he can feel it, can feel the way their magical pulses line up and fit together like interlocking gears. 

“Jesus Christ,” Neil shouts. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Yeah,” Adam mutters. “Definitely my brother.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Gene says, snapping his fingers in front of Adam’s face. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to talk to you about,” Adam says.

“Oh, now, that’s just not true,” Gene says. “We’re going to talk about how you’re going to give yourself up so your less-talented brother here can go free.”

“That’s just rude, man,” Neil says. “He is so rude. I’m funny! I’m totally funny, Adam.”

“He is funny,” Allison says, and Adam sees where she’s pinned next to Neil, looking frightened but brave. “He was always the funniest dude in Mercury House.”

“I believe you,” Adam says, and turns to Gene. “I’ll do it. If it means you’ll let him go, I’ll do it.”

“NO!”

Adam turns to see Kris, running towards them, frantic. “Kris, don’t—“

“Don’t take him,” Kris says, breathless. “Take me.”

There were many times when Adam wished to hear those exact words come out of Kris’ mouth. 

Now is not one of them.

“Kris, don’t be stupid,” Adam says. “He’s my brother, I—“

“I can sing too,” Kris says. “Not like Adam can, but—if what you want is musical magic, I can give you mine.”

“This is so cute,” Gene says, eyes twinkling underneath his scary clown make-up. “Who are you, tiny singer?”

“I’m Kris Allen,” Kris says, straightening to make himself as tall as possible.  
“Oh, you’re an Allen,” Gene says, waving his hand dismissively. “That explains it. You’re all too nice for your own damn good.”

“Kris!” Adam exclaims. “This is not even an option. You cannot—“

“He can,” Gene says, a smile curling his lips. “I’ll accept this substitution.”

Adam is temporarily flummoxed. Why would Gene Simmons take Kris instead after he spent all this time and effort ensnaring Adam? After killing his parents and his uncle, and kidnapping his brother to use as bait? It doesn’t make—

“Kris!” Neil shouts. “Don’t let him! He’s going to take you both! He’s not going to—“

Gene whirls around and points his wand at Neil, screaming, “ _Stupefy!_ ”

Neil slumps to the floor, unconscious.

“Oh no,” Adam mutters. “Oh no, it is not going down like this.”

“You think you can hurt me?” Gene laughs. “You think you’re a man, Adam, but you’re really just a little boy.”

“What, and you’re some kind of big man?” Adam snaps. “Because you want to make this great rock band, but you’re not talented enough to do it without stealing from those who are more talented than you?”

Gene narrows his eyes. “That’s not—“

“It’s exactly what you’re doing,” Kris says. “You could take us all – you could take me and Adam and Allison and Danny, you could suck as dry and you still wouldn’t have enough talent to make your sorry band anything more than a tired, tacky spectacle. You’re a _joke._ ”

Gene sputters, flailing his arms, and teeters in his platform shoes.

Adam thinks: _You have to believe. This is your world now._

He narrows his eyes, lifts his wand and begins to sing.

“ _Just a small town girl…living in a lonely world…_ ”

He doesn’t know why he chooses the song – it’s just the first one that comes into his head. His uncle used to sing it all time, any time it came on the radio; he’d belt it out in the shower, ham it up while they readied the club for the night, sashaying around in his kimono. 

_It’s a classic, Adam,_ he’d say, _and classics are powerful._

Gene winces visibly and extends his wand. “What are you doing? Do you really think—“

“ _She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere…_ ” Kris joins in. “ _Just a city boy--“_

 _“Born and raised in south Detroit_ ,” comes Allison’s strong alto. 

“ _He took the midnight train going anywhere_ ,” Danny harmonizes with his throaty tenor, and a pretty dark-haired girl breaks free of her magical binds, runs across the room and throws herself into his arms. 

_Sophia_ , Adam thinks, and does a silent cheer.

“ _A singer in a smoky room…The smell of wine and cheap perfume—_ “

The room swells with sound. He turns, and behind him he sees the remainder of show choir stumbling in – Michael and Anoop and Matt and Scott and Lil and Megan – along with a very pissed off Brad.

“I can’t believe you motherfuckers left me,” Brad says. “I get that this was a romantic journey for two and everything, but seriously—“

“A little busy now,” Adam whispers, and raises his voice as loud as he can make it. But he reaches out and squeezes Brad’s shoulder and tosses him a grateful smile.

They’re all singing together now, their voices melting and melding, uniting in harmonies. Adam loves this, loves singing with other people as much as he loves performing by himself, because it’s just another way to share music, to be a part of something, to connect to joy.

And right now, it’s killing Gene Simmons.

He’s crouched down on the floor, hands over his ears, face screwed up in a tight grimace. Where before he was cocky and smug and cavalier, now he looks small and scared and weak.

Adam wishes he could say he feels for Gene, that he relates to him on some basic human-to-human (or wizard-to-wizard) level, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t think he can be redeemed or changed, or even that he deserves that chance. 

He tried to take away all of the people Adam could ever love: his parents, his uncle, his brother.

Kris. He tried to take away Kris.

Adam lifts his wand, and he can see his classmates do the same. He points it at Gene Simmons as he sings, and he thinks of what Professor DioGuardi said at rehearsal: _It’s easy—all you need is love_.

In his mind, he sees all those he left behind in L.A., the drag queens and cocktail servers and bartenders that raised him; the teachers who told him he was smart and strong when he got beaten up for being different; the friends he’s made at No Boundaries, Allison and Brad and all the rest; loopy Professor Abdul, who told him of his destiny; snide Professor Cowell, who said he had potential; smarmy Professor Seacrest, who insisted he was special…

Kris, who comforted him in the closet, who stayed by his side, who defended him against Gokey, who helped him sleep when he had nightmares. 

Kris, who is standing beside him right now, who would have given up everything so Adam could be happy.

A thin silver stream shoots out of Adam’s wand and hits Gene Simmons directly in the chest. Silver mixes with blue and green and purple and red and orange and yellow, all the colors of show choir, all the colors of his friends, and Gene goes down in a rainbow of magic, enchanted to death with love.

*

The cheering is so loud Adam can’t hear himself think. He’s standing in the Mercury common room, surrounded by his friends and classmates, and people are shouting their congratulations and slapping him on the back and shaking his hand and hugging him and asking for his autograph.

Adam feels his heart lift, and he realizes, with a start, that he is happy. He is happier than he’s been since his uncle died. He is happier than he’s been in a long, long time, because he is finally in a place where he belongs.

“Hey, dude,” Adam hears someone say, and Neil claps him on the shoulder and grins. “Long day, huh?”

“You could say that, yeah,” Adam laughs. “You feeling okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Neil says. “Stupefying hurts like a bitch, but I’ll survive.”

“Neil!” Megan shouts, and envelops him in a tight hug. “We missed you!”

“And how could I know that, huh?” Neil says. “You never write, you never call—“

“I totally wrote you letters,” Megan says. “You just didn’t get them.”

Neil looks offended. “Are you trying to say that’s my fault? Being trapped in a crypt is not exactly a Tahitian vacation, okay. Even if it only felt like three days! Three days is a long-ass time to hang out with Sophia. She’s sweet, but she has no sense of humor! And I totally missed the first eight episodes of _America’s Next Top Wizard._ ”

“I’m sorry,” Adam says. “I’m really sorry.”

Neil’s eyes soften. “Hey, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault you’re, like, the world’s musical savior or whatever. I just hope that when your album comes out I get to produce. I am badass at Magical ProTools, man.”

Adam smiles. “Sure thing.”

“Adam.” Seacrest appears beside him. “Can I borrow you from your adoring public for a moment?”

Adam nods and follows him out into the hallway. Seacrest gazes at him with calm hazel eyes, and a smile nudges at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m very proud of you,” Seacrest says. “You saved your friends and confronted a scary man who has put you – and people like you – in great danger for many years.”

Adam ducks his head, suddenly shy.

“The security in the crypt is designed to test your specific strengths,” Seacrest says. “That’s like passing an exam that targets your biggest weaknesses.”

“I was wondering about that,” Adam says. “It seemed awfully…convenient.”

“Not convenient!” Seacrest says. “Appropriate. But certainly not easy.”

“But it was a trap,” Adam says. “By dismantling the security, I let in Gene Simmons.”

“Yes,” Seacrest says. “He was counting on you doing that. He wasn’t able to enter himself.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam says.

“Don’t be,” Seacrest says. “We all make mistakes. Those of those who succeed are those who know how to fix them.”

Adam touches his hand to his neck, where the necklace is no longer. It’s the one thing he lost in this battle that he’ll never be able to recover.

“Do you understand, now?” Seacrest says. “What happened with your parents?”

“I’m confused, actually,” Adam says. “If Gene Simmons killed my parents, then how did I end up saved? And how did Neil survive too?”

“You and Neil were with your uncle,” Seacrest says. “Your mother had told him to watch over you for the day. We think they had some inkling that Gene was after them, and they cast a cloaking spell to protect you.”

“But what happened to Neil?” Adam asks.

“Your uncle found a magical adoptive family for him,” Seacrest says, “but he couldn’t bear the idea of letting you become a part of the wizarding world when you might be in danger there. He thought you would be safer in the Muggle world, where he could keep you a secret. Your uncle was a powerful wizard, too. He managed to hide you for many years, using spells we were never able to penetrate. He even made it impossible to find you psychically – that’s why you reacted the way you did when Professor Abdul tried to read you. But when Neil didn’t return to No Boundaries after last summer, we decided it was time to look harder. We were lucky – we found you just in time.”

“Not quite,” Adam says. “Not soon enough.”

Seacrest lowers his eyes. “No. Not quite soon enough.”

“I wish—“ Adam stops, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I wish I’d been able to do something, to protect him like he protected me—“

“I know you do,” Seacrest says, patting Adam’s shoulder. “That’s what’s going to make you a great wizard, Adam – your compassion. But you can’t change the past. You can only make the future your own.”

Adam turns to go, but then he thinks: Wait.

“Professor Seacrest,” Adam says, “in the cave with the magic mushrooms, it was Kris who saw the way to the stairs and who knew my necklace was a key.”

“Yes,” Seacrest says. “That was part of his test.”

“Part of his – but that doesn’t make any sense–“

“But it does,” Seacrest says, a soft smile pushing up one corner of his mouth. “His greatest fear was letting you go.”

*

Adam feels dazed when he wanders back into the common room, overwhelmed with the events of the last few days and drained from the spell he cast on Gene Simmons. In all the excitement and hubbub he manages to slip away into his room and close the door softly behind him.

He sinks down on the bed and presses his palms together, just wanting to feel skin on skin, to know this is real life, that he is really here. 

“Adam?”

His head jerks up. He can see the closet door is open a crack, but no one is in the room.

“Kris?” he says, and pulls open the closet door.

Kris is huddled on the floor under Adam’s clothes, knees pulled up to his chest. 

“Hi,” he says softly, and looks up at Adam from under his eyelashes.

Adam smiles at him, then crouches down on the floor next to Kris.

“Hi,” Adam says.

“I’m sorry I’m not out there celebrating or whatever,” Kris says. “I got a little overwhelmed.”

“It’s okay,” Adam says. “I did too.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment. Adam can see the flecks of gold in Kris’ eyes, the soft flush in his cheeks. 

He thinks: _Now._

Adam leans forward and kisses the corner of Kris’ mouth, giving him a chance to push him away.

But Kris doesn’t push him away.

Kris leans forward and kisses him back, full on the mouth. He tangles his hand in Adam’s hair, flicking his tongue along the seam of Adam’s lips until he opens his mouth with a desperate inhale. 

“Kris,” Adam whispers, and Kris kisses him harder, climbing into Adam’s lap. Adam brings his hands up to grasp at Kris’ hips, needing something to hold onto. Kris cups Adam’s face, biting at his lower lip. Adam lets Kris control the kiss, tilting his head back as Kris traces the shape of Adam’s mouth with the tip of his tongue.

“You don’t even know,” Kris mumbles, “how long I’ve wanted—“

“How long you’ve wanted—“ Adam says incredulously, and Kris cuts him off by trailing wet kisses down over Adam’s throat, making Adam gasp and moan.

Kris threads his fingers through Adam’s and pulls away reluctantly. “Adam – I’m sorry, I know you’ve got other things on your mind.”

“But this is so much better than any of them,” Adam says, and nips at Kris’ collarbone.

“Are you okay?” Kris asks. “Tell me the truth.”

Adam nods. “I am okay. Are you okay?”

“If you’re okay then I’m okay,” Kris says. 

“Don’t you ever try to sacrifice yourself for me again,” Adam instructs him. “Can you promise me that?”

Kris nods. “I was so scared that I was going to lose you—“

Adam leans forward to swallow Kris’ words with a kiss, pushing Kris down onto his back on the floor. He loves Kris, loves hearing him talk, cares what he has to say – but right now all he wants is to show Kris, show him until he can’t talk, can’t form words.

He pushes his hands under Kris’ shirt, popping off one of the buttons, and Kris yelps from the cold. 

“ _Estus_ ,” Adam breathes, and his hands heat on Kris’ skin.

“Wow,” Kris says, and arches his back, hips rising to meet Adam’s.

“I’ve been studying,” Adam says, a smirk playing across his lips.

“I can see that,” Kris says, and he sounds a little strangled. He brushes one hand down over Adam’s chest and down to the zipper of Adam’s jeans, which are rapidly becoming too tight for comfort.

He thrusts down at the same time Kris pushes up, and they fall into a clumsy rhythm, made even more unsteady and awkward by their frantic kissing. Adam licks at the corner of Kris’ mouth and feels Kris exhale against him, his breathing uneven, his pulse jumpy as Adam kisses his throat.

“I bet there are all kinds of sexy things you can do with magic,” Adam murmurs.

“I bet we can find out,” Kris whispers back.


End file.
